


black eyes and red knuckles

by cazei



Series: Boring Without You [5]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, blue gets hurt, i got tired and posted what i wrote but there will be more soon, last chapter is more graphic than first two, race kicks someones ass, sling gets worried, spot gets angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-15 14:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11807685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazei/pseuds/cazei
Summary: It was two hours after Blue and Racetrack returned, Blue's eye blackened and Race's knuckles red.--Takes place betweenI Owe Youandhailstorms and nightmares.--CW: There is attempted rape and assault. Please, read with caution.THIS USED TO BE READEATSLEEPREPEAT. NEW CHAPTER IS CHAPTER THREE. CAN BE READ ALONE.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy also this was meant to be one part but i wanna take a nap so heres this for now

It was two hours after Blue and Racetrack returned, Blue's eye blackened and Race's knuckles red.   
  
"Race," Spot had started, "I know we've got an agreement about you coming over to sell at the tracks, as well as holding card games, but so help me if Blue tells me that you did that..."  
  
Sling finished with his arms crossed, "You wouldn't be able to run fast enough."  
  
Blue only responded with a small, empty tone, "It wasn't him."  
  
Then, the two of them refused to speak more about _the_ _incident_. 

 

The rest of the newsies had long since snuck away from the tense scene to go waste away the night at the docks, but the four of them still sat silently in the newsies bunker.    
  
Race had gotten wrap for his hands, and Blue was holding a small chunk of ice that Sling got god-knows-where and  _ still _ no one elaborated. Sling's attempts at getting Blue and Race to talk have failed, so Spot is trying out his silent technique.    
  
And then Blue reaches up to tuck a curl behind his ear and his loose, fraying sleeve falls past his wrist. In turn, the hidden bruises that litter his arms are now seen.    
  
Sling is on his feet in an instant, and Spot finds himself holding him back. with both hands on Sling's arms, Spot commands, "Sling, knock it off."   
  
"What the hell happened?" Sling interrogates, ignoring him. He was speaking to both race and Blue, and Spot knows he's furious if he's talking to Harvey like that.    
  
Blue simply readjusts his sleeve. "Nothing. It's handled."   
  
Race shoots him a look but doesn't comment. Instead he says to Spot, "If he says it's dropped, drop it. The sun is about to set; I need to get back to Manhattan."   
  
"No," Spot says simply. "Race, I'm sorry, but Blue is second in command. An attack on him is an attack on Brooklyn, and no one is leaving this room until we find out what happened."

 

Race exhales but knows when not to argue with Spot. Now is not the time anyway, what with what happened in the alley near the Newsie Lodge and all. 

 

_ It was late, and Race really needed to get back to Manhattan. Spot followed him, just to be sure he got back in one piece. It was a dark night, after all.  _

 

_ As they walked past the Lodge, Spot stopped them.  _

 

_ “Why were you okay with Sling and Blue?” Spot asked, as if it had been on his mind. It was only a month after Race found out about the relationship between Brooklyn’s second and fourth newsie. “Most people would’ve  _ killed  _ them. Or worse.” _

 

_ Race shrugs. “I don’t understand hating someone for something that’s not my business.” _

 

_ Spot nods. “I get that. It just -- you weren’t even surprised. You only jumped when I growled at you.” _

 

_ “Anyone would,” Race chuckles. “You’re scary, Conlon. Besides, two blokes kissing? That’s not exactly open in Manhattan, but let’s just say I’m familiar with it.” _

 

_ “Are you-” Spot starts.  _

 

_ “We don’t need to talk about this.” _

 

_ Spot stares him in the eye. “I… I think we should.” _

 

Long, frankly  _ dramatic _ story short, Spot ended up pinning Race to the wall and letting their mouths do the rest. 

 

So, Race doesn’t know what he and Spot are. Now doesn’t seem like the time for that conversation. 

 

Because Blue is holding his arms to his chest and he looks as if he’s about to shatter into a million pieces.

 

“Blue,” Race says. “Harvey. I think they need to know. If we don’t tell them, they’re going to think I tried to murder you. And then we can’t play poker on the docks, and then no one will be happy. I’ll probably be dead at the bottom of the river, as well.”

 

Because Spot may have  _ some  _ kind of emotional connection to him, but if something happened to Blue and it was Race’s fault? All bets are off. 

 

Blue is thin but tall, passionate but strict. He is what Spot lacks, and he is what Brooklyn needs. If something happened to him, who knows where the many newsies of the great borough would be?

 

“What happened?” Sling asks, calmer this time.

 

Blue sits up, exhaling softly. 

 

“Fine,” Harvey says. “You really want to know?”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fine,” Harvey says. “You really want to know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY READ END NOTES

* * *

“Fine,” _Harvey says. “You really want to know?”_

Sling rolls his eyes fondly. “Yes, Harv. If we didn’t, why would we still be here?”

Blue, or Harvey, shifts uncomfortably on the small bunk he’s sitting on.

Sling exhales. “Go on, Harv.”

After Blue sends Race a glare, he starts.

“Okay,” Harvey says slowly. “I was over by Queens, and I heard shouting. It was the middle of the day; I figured some idiotic newsies had gotten into a brawl. There was no one else on the street, so I decided to go look for myself.”

Harvey stops for a moment to catch his breath and readjust himself on the cot.

“There was a boy, a kid -- maybe ten years old, maybe -- being pinned to the alley wall by some middle aged joe.”

Spot frowns. “Pinned as in…?”

Harvey picks up his slack. “Yeah, like that. My guess is the joe was missing his usual rent boy and decided to take it out on this random child.”

Sling has a hard look in his eye.

“What did you do?” He asks.

Blue shrugs. “I still had maybe twenty papes left, still in their bag. I nailed the guy in the head and shoved him away from the kid.”

There’s a humorless laugh from Blue. “Naturally, he didn’t go down, but the kid got away.”

“There’s that,” Spot mutters.

Sling shakes his head. “Then what happened?”

Blue leans against the bedpost, and the story comes together in Sling and Spot’s minds.

“Well, I took his fun, so he turned to me next,” Blue says. His lips move as if they’re forced, unwilling to recount the events from earlier. His eyes, usually light and green, look dark and hollow.

Harvey then looks to Race, who continues the story.

Race shrugs, fiddling with the bandage that covers his knuckles. “I was in the area, trying to deliver a message for Jack. I heard muffled shouting, or somethin’ like that, and I thought I would go look for some poor newsie who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Instead I found Blue… Pinned to the wall by a man much taller than him -- which is odd, since Blue is one of the tallest people I know --”

“Race,” Spot says darkly. “On with it.”

“Right,” Race apologizes. “Sorry. The joe, as Blue said, has his palm over Blue’s mouth. His legs and free arm were pushing him against the wall. When I got there, Blue’s lip was already bleeding and his eye was dark, so I know he put up a good fight -- the joe didn’t look too happy either, and his jaw was red.”

Blue exhales and fidgets with the stray strings coming from his sleeve. “Well, just as the joe was trying to... unbutton my clothes, Race came in and knocked him out, real smooth. Then we came here.”

Race shrugs. “End of story.”

Sling and Spot are silent for a moment, Spot staring into the distance and Sling staring at Blue.

“Are you okay?” Sling says silently.

Blue nods, and runs at his wrists. “Just bruised and shaken.”

Sling pushes. “What else?”

“Nothing.”

“Harvey.”

Race opens his mouth, but Blue stops him, “Race, no. It's nothing.”

“He hit his head on the cement,” Race says anyway.

“Anthony!” Blue says.

At the same time, Sling and Spot say, “Harvey!”

“Were you planning on saying anything? You could've gotten a concussion!” Sling says.

Harvey shrugs. “I'm fine.”

“That phrase is now banned,” Spot says.

“Come on,” Louis says to Harvey softly. “Let's get you cleaned up.”

Spot and Race share an eye roll as the other two boys walk to the bathroom, speaking in quiet voices.

“They'll be okay,” Spot says. “They always are.”

“I'm worried about Blue,” Race says. “He wouldn't let me touch him after.”

Spot shrugs. “His parents were assholes. He doesn't like anyone touching him.”

Race raises an eyebrow and gestures with a tilt of the head toward the bathroom.

“Yeah,” Spot laughs, “Louis isn't included.”

\--

The next day, a man in Queens was suddenly giving outrageous amounts of money to Brooklyn Newsies everywhere. Sling and Spot had nothing to do with it, of course.

Unrelatedly, Sling and Spot had to ice their knuckles for a week after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i meant to write more and post it in an hour but i evidently didnT IM SO SORRY I DONT EVEN HAVE AN EXCUSE. I HAVE DONE N O T H I N G. 
> 
> IM SORRY. I HOPE YOU ENJOYED. HOPE JT WAS WORTH THE WAIT. IM WRITING THIS ON MY PHONE BECAUSE I FEEL SO BAD.
> 
>  
> 
> also -- might add another chapter? on how this incident affects blue in the long run? lemme know what u thought of this so far and that idea. thanks.


	3. Blue POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, the exact same story but from Blue's POV. Please read and review!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look this is like a year late, but someone wanted blues pov. here it is.

Harvey De Moura is a sixteen year old, half-Portuguese runaway. He spent half his childhood getting beaten by his mother and father, and most of the other half living on the streets. 

 

Being a newsie, though? It’s made the past few years better. Meeting Spot, helping make the Brooklyn newsies’ reputation as strong as it is? Meeting Sling…  

 

Meeting Sling was an event in itself. 

 

So, yeah, these past few years have been comparatively the best he’s ever had. Which is what makes today such a shitty day. 

 

First, Sling had to run to Elmhurst, so Blue has to get the Newsies up and out by himself. Then, Spot wanted him to sell today, and because Sling's busy, he has to go by himself. 

 

Blue bites his tongue at the thought; he hasn't sold without Sling in nearly two years. 

 

But Spot’s the boss, and what Spot says happens. 

 

-

 

The papers are heavier than he remembered, though Sling always did carry more. Even so, Blue shoulders his bag and hundred papes, and he heads out to sell. 

 

Because he is Brooklyn’s number two, Spot covers his rent, but having a bit of spending money is never a bad thing. Maybe he and Sling can finally get some food from the new diner down the street - as friends, of course. 1898 is not the year for two teenage boys to be seen getting dinner together in a way that suggest anything less than platonic. 

 

In an attempt to chase the thought from his head, Blue rushes to one of his old selling spots. It’s a part of town where several alleyways lead, and there’s usually a lot of foot-traffic before and after the work day for the average businessman. 

 

He manages to stop several people on their way to work, but people ignore him for the most part.  _ Huh,  _ Blue thinks. _ Maybe this neighborhood has changed.  _

 

Blue can already hear Spot’s, “I don’t cares if the ‘hood has changed, you’s still have papes ta sell,” so he shakes the thought from his head and moves on. 

 

-

 

The hours are long, and he still have twenty papers by the dinner rush. It’s almost not worth the money lost; he’s tired, his feet hurt, and everything aches. He forgot how much work went into selling.

 

Just as Blue is about to head home and call it quits, a noise from a nearby pathway stops him.    
  


_ “Get -- Get off of me! _ ” A soft voice protests from an alleyway. Blue’s face perks up, and he frowns. 

 

Walking towards the noise, Blue notices that the population went from scarce to nearly nothing. There’s a woman sitting on a bench a hundred yards away, and a man in a horse-drawn-carriage across the street, but other than this, the road is empty. 

 

Still, the shouts are growing more panicked as time goes on, so Blue continues walking towards the disturbance. 

 

As he turns down the alley, his walking stops in a second. A large, towering man has pinned a young boy against the wall. It’s not too hard to see his reasoning; the man looks fairly drunk, soiled, and all-in-all disgusting. The boy’s belt is nearly off. 

 

Before he can think of a better plan, Blue swings his bag of papers over his shoulder, and nails the man in the face. He doesn’t quite go down, but it gives Harvey the leverage that he needed. 

 

“Go!” Blue shouts to the boy, who is all of ten years all and looks frightened. “Now!”

 

The man sticks a palm to the back of his head, where Blue hit him, and whirls around to Blue. 

 

“‘Da fuck you thin’ you’re doin’?” He grumbles, and takes a swinging step towards Harvey. 

 

_ Very, very drunk _ , Blue amends in his head.  _ Not fairly. Heavily.  _

 

“The fuck does it look like?” Blue asks, and he raises his arm to swing again. However, in his haste, the joe grabs his other wrist and yanks him forward. 

 

Blue manages to pull out of his grasp, but he accidentally drops his papers in the process.  _ So much for the leverage. _

 

Realizing that while he may know how to throw a punch, he is way out of depth here, Blue attempts to spin and run. Before he can, the man reaches to grab one of his suspender straps. The elastic stretches against his thin flannel and shoulder, and Blue has no choice but to turn around with his fists raised.

  
He manages to get a few hits in, one of them to the man’s jaw, but he’s not strong enough. He’s faster, and smarter, but he’s just not strong enough. 

 

The man grabs his forearms, shoving him against the brick alleyway. 

 

Pitching forward, Blue feels a sense of dread fill his stomach. Nevertheless, he throws himself forward again, and manages to sock the man in the stomach, winding him. 

 

“Let  _ go  _ of me!” Blue says, and he spits on the mans face. In response, the man hits him several times. Once in the jaw, and he can feel his lip split, once in the eye, and twice in the stomach.

 

_ This isn’t good _ , A soft part of Harvey’s brain whispers as the man gains the upper hand and presses a palm to his mouth, silencing his shouts. 

 

“Look,” The man says, leaning his weight to push Harvey into the brick. “Just be real - real quiet, and this won’t hurt a bit.”

 

In response, Harvey bites his hand, which earns him a nice slam against a brick. Damn, that’s gonna bruise. 

 

Harvey tries to squirm, tries to fight, but the man has the upperhand. The man’s hands itch for his shirt buttons, and Blue’s eyes widen even further, and his struggle increases tenfold. 

 

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me!” Harvey tries to yell, but the hand over his mouth makes it a loud, “Ount ‘ukin tou’ mey!”

 

Vaguely, Harvey realizes that he is powerless. That hurts more than his ribs. 

 

Then, just as half of his outer-layer is unbuttoned, a new voice joins the scene. 

 

“ _ What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?”  _ Anthony Higgins says, in all of his five foot glory. 

 

If Blue wasn’t madly (and he was mad) in love with Sling, he would propose to Racetrack on the spot. The relief fills his spine, and his knees go weak. That also might be a result of the punches. 

 

Might be. 

 

Before he can blink, Race is shoving the man away and to the ground. But, the joe’s hands down leave Blue, and Harvey is thrown to the ground. His head hits the ground with a dizzying smack. The cliche faint ringing in his ears sounds, and his vision bleeds for a second.    
  
He doesn’t process anything until there’s a hand at his shoulder. 

 

Blue flies back, pressing himself to the alleyway. He’s still sitting, barely upright, but he moved faster than he thought possible. His denim pants tore at the patches, and blood drips from his knee. His flannel is half unbuttoned, revealing a dark undershirt. Even his hair flies in all directions; now he really is mad. 

 

“Hey, hey,” Race coaxes. “Jus’ me. What happened? He ran off, but I managed to get his wallet.”

 

Blue swallows and shuts his eyes tight. Anxiety is in every breath, and he didn’t fully register it until now. 

 

“He was goin’ after a kid,” Blue says. “I couldn’t -- ”

 

Race sighs. “Are you okay?”

 

Blue doesn’t respond at first. “He -- He tried to…”

 

“I know. Are you okay?”

 

Blue exhales sharply, and the pain in his chest flares. His vision swims. “I dunno. Can - can I go home?”

 

Race puts his arms under Blue’s armpits, and starts to haul him to his feet. 

 

“Yeah, Harv. Let’s go home.”

 

-

 

Luckily for Race, both Sling and Spot are waiting in the bunkhouse when he gets there. So much for dropping Blue off and running for the hills.    
  


Several newsies were sharing drinks in a distorted circle, but the second Race walked in with a half-asleep Blue hanging over his shoulder, Sling stood and Spot sent everyone out. Except for Race, naturally. 

 

“This wasn’t my fault,” is the only thing Race can say before Sling is pulling Blue off of him and into Spot’s room. 

 

Spot’s face is unusually cold toward him. “C’mon, Higgins. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

 

-

 

They tell the story between shaking breathes, and Blue carefully doesn’t look at Sling. 

 

As soon as he finishes, Sling starts to drag him towards the multipurpose, AKA the first-aid room, AKA the bathroom. It’s a big bathroom, what can he say?

 

When the door closes, Blue settles himself on the floor. He plants his elbows on his knees, and his forehead in his palms. The room still spins like a top. Harvey De Moura groans. 

 

“This sucks,” is all he has to say. 

 

Sling is silent. 

 

“I’m fine,” Blue tries. 

 

Again, no response. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Blue tries. 

 

“For what?” Sling exclaims, suddenly breaking his silence.

 

Blue shrugs. “I dunno. You just seem mad.”

 

Sling looks like he wants to jump off Brooklyn Bridge. In his current state, Blue wouldn’t object to joining him. 

 

“Mad? I’m mad as hell!” Sling says, and Blue flinches for the first time in a long time because of him. “Not at you, Harvey. At that disgusting excuse of a man. God, I could kill him.”

 

Harvey rolls his eyes. “Stop. Not worth jail time.”

 

Sling laughs emotionlessly. “For you? Anything.”

 

Harvey pats at his lip with his sleeve. It’s going to be awhile before Spot and Sling let him sell by himself; he’s okay with that. “You’re a fucking sap.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! please **comment** how you liked this! i have another idea in the works, too! for this series!
> 
> @cazei - tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> yeah as i said before there'll be more in a few hours probably i just wanna take a nap so i mean here's this . 
> 
> next chapter: race is badass, blue is badass but Anxious, sling is a mother hen, and spot is going To Have Words with a certain,, other borough


End file.
